


Baby, It's Cold Outside

by Bennyhatter



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Apocalypse Husbands, But they're so precious, Cold, Cute, Fluff, I hope you like it my sweet salsa, M/M, Rickyl Writers' Group, SURPRISE HIERO, Secreter Santa, Snowball Fight, These boys can't do anything the easy way, With Daryl's particular brand of sass, kisses in the snow, wet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 23:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8916829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bennyhatter/pseuds/Bennyhatter
Summary: Daryl, Rick, a snowball fight, and kissing in the snow. That is all.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CarburetorCastiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarburetorCastiel/gifts).



> SURPRISE YOU DARLING CREATURE YOU I HOPE YOU LIKE THE THING IT'S ALL FOR YOU AND THERE WILL BE MANY MORE FROM EVERYONE ELSE HAHAHAHAHAHAHA MERRY CHRISTMAS I LOVE YOU
> 
> *hollers at the top of my lungs*

Something hits the back of Daryl's head and he spins around; brings his crossbow up with the fluidity of years spent handling this weapon and learning every nuance of it. He can't see any walkers nearby, nothing that could have made such an attack - only Rick, who has a handful of snow slowly melting in his palm and a bright, mischievous grin scrunching his wind-burned cheeks.

“Th’ fuck?” Daryl mutters. He squints at his lover - and even  _ thinking _ it is enough to make his cheeks pink, thank god for the cold hiding his reaction - and scowls. “Rick, th’ fuck ya doin’?”

“Never heard of a snowball fight, Daryl?” Rick is laughing openly now, his chuckles deep and rolling across the freezing air between them. It hits Daryl like the shock of stepping into a hot bath; like the crackle of a warm fire after a long day spent out in the cold.

“Don’cha think we got bett'r things ta be doin’ than hurlin’ snow like preschoolers?” Arching an eyebrow, Daryl slowly slings his crossbow over his back, the strap a familiar pressure cutting across his chest. He's not wearing gloves, so the snow is bitterly cold against his fingers. He scoops up a decent amount and starts rolling it into a ball, looking at it with such focus and concentration, determined to make it perfect, that Rick's second snowball gets him across his shoulder. Icy water is dripping down beneath his collar from the first snowy missile, wetting his hair and making him shiver. When he looks up at Rick, the man already has a third snowball waiting, his grin challenging and his eyes bright.

“Gonna love it or throw it, darlin’?” his lover taunts. He's clearly having fun with this; he looks younger than he has in a long, long time.

It's his own fault Daryl's perfectly-packed snowball explodes across the bridge of his nose. He should have ducked.

Daryl tackles him into a snow drift before he can recover, straddling his stomach and rubbing another freezing handful of powdery white flakes over the older man's face. He stuffs some down the front of Rick's shirt, silent and methodical and grinning so wide his entire face hurts as Rick squirms and sputters beneath him.

“Daryl! Damn it, Daryl, I give!”

“Nice ta hear, Grimes.  _ I _ ain't done givin’ yet, though.” Daryl shoves another heaping handful down Rick's shirt for good measure, stretching out on top of his lover and wrapping him in a bear hug so that Rick's can't get away and shake the snow out of his clothes. They make a mess of the drift they’re half buried in, churning it up and smearing dark streaks of mud through the white as Rick struggles to break free and Daryl holds on like he's riding a bucking horse. They're close enough to Alexandria that being cold for a little while won't matter. Otherwise Daryl would never have been this extreme.

Eventually Rick gives up, going limp beneath Daryl with a huff. As soon as he's still, the archer kisses him and loses himself in the heat of Rick's mouth - a wonderful contact to their frozen, frigid surroundings.

“I love you,” Rick says with a quiet laugh. He combs his fingers through Daryl's hair, pushing the wet strands away from his face and leaving bitterly cold trails of water across the archer's cheeks.

“Love ya too,” Daryl mutters before he goes in for another kiss. It may be colder than sin, and Daryl is pretty sure that he's not going to thaw out again until spring, but Rick always makes it bearable - even when he's initiating a fucking snowball fight.


End file.
